KITT Catches a Cold
by YeahScience
Summary: {Original series} A sudden change of plans forces KITT and Michael to drive hundreds of miles to a conference in Chicago, where he and the rest of the FLAG crew will be honored guests. But the Midwest winter weather takes its toll on the supercar, and he finds himself sick the morning of his big day! How do you treat a car with a cold, especially on a tight schedule?
1. Road Trip

Words cannot describe how bored I am. There's a crazy flu going around my school, and I just thought, "Hey, what if KITT got sick? I mean, he's a car, but considering the suspension of disbelief the rest of the show relies on…" And then this happened. Please forgive continuity/canon/spelling/grammar errors, as I am my own beta, message me if they are unbearable.

Original series. No specific season, but Bonnie is KITT's mechanic. Sick!KITT. Hints of Bonnie/Michael. This is entirely fluff. And I don't own Knight Rider. Does anybody nowadays? It's more than 30 years old...

Anyway, let's start this up.

* * *

"I'm just saying, Bon Jovi is a better guitarist than Vivaldi was a violinist," Michael said as he and his trusty steel steed rocketed down the empty highway with "Livin' On A Prayer" blasting through the radio.

"I cannot decide which is more appalling: that obnoxious music you listen to constantly or your incomprehensible fascination with it," KITT mumbled in reply. "I'm not programmed to critique 'art'-" Michael picked up on the sarcastic wavering of the module's voice- "but I find the radio waves most unpleasant and erratic."

"That is good ol' fashioned rock 'n roll, pal," Michael chided, "and even Bonnie can't write a program good enough to help you understand it." The two were silent for a few minutes and let the music do the talking. Michael had half a mind that KITT was actually taking in the music and laughed to himself as he imagined his scanner pulsating to the beat of the song. But he knew better than that.

The radio snapped off abruptly. Before Michael had a chance to protest, KITT chimed in as usual. "Devon's calling." Seconds later, Devon's face appeared on the screen.

"Michael?"

"Yes, Devon?" Michael replied, letting KITT take control so he could look at the monitor. Devon looked annoyed. Well, more so than usual.

"Michael, I'm afraid I have some bad news," he grumbled. "Our Mobile Unit has just broken down. Obviously, that means we'll have to use some other form of transportation to get to the conference tomorrow." He paused, looking in vain for some sort of reaction from Michael. "You _do_ remember the conference? The Conference on Crime and Law in Chicago? The conference which we will be representing FLAG and receiving an award for our work with KITT? For goodness sakes, Michael, I told you about it weeks ago!"He merely shrugged, and Devon sighed.

"Well, driving will take too long. We'll have to fly. And that includes you, KITT."

"Forgive me, Devon, but as I have said before, if cars were meant to fly, they'd have wings," he replied curtly.

"The conference is hundreds of miles away; it would take days to drive that far! And the conference is tomorrow! We don't have time for your uppity attitude, KITT."

"To be fair, Devon," Michael interjected. "KITT is a heck of a lot faster than other cars. We could make the drive in a matter of hours. You and Bonnie could catch a red-eye flight, and KITT and I'll meet you there."

"I'm inclined to agree," the car added. Devon scratched his head. "Well, alright. But KITT, you'd better put the pedal to the metal. I'll see you two there. 9 o'clock in the lobby of the hotel." He signed off.

"Thank you, Michael," KITT said. "I simply cannot stand flying. I get enough of it when we turbo boost."

"Sure thing, buddy," Michael responded. "A nice long road trip is the perfect way for us to spend some time together!"

"It certainly is."

"And I can introduce you to all the best rock songs ever recorded!" Michael exclaimed.

"On second thought…" Michael laughed at his friend's guile and switched KITT to auto before drifting off to sleep.

* * *

When he woke up, a steady yet light rain was falling and wind buffeted KITT's hard body. Michael sat quietly with his eyes closed for a few moments, listening to the quiet hum of KITT's engines. They brought a smile to his lips.

"Michael? Are you awake?" KITT whispered. Michael nodded and adjusted himself in his seat, then switched to manual mode. "We close?" He asked.

"Only a few blocks away," he stated matter-of-factly. "Just turn right at the next light. Michael signaled and started to drift into the turn lane, but KITT suddenly cried out, "No! Left, sorry!" But it was too late to change lanes, so they just played it safe and took the right.

This perplexed Michael. KITT never made mistakes. But he didn't call attention to it, not wanting to embarrass his perfectionist pal, and instead made a U-turn and found the hotel himself. KITT was quiet the whole time.

They parked in the garage across the street from the hotel. As soon as he opened the door, Michael was assaulted with the brutally cold lakefront winds characteristic of the city. He shivered and rubbed his arms against the biting gale.

"Boy, this city is every bit as windy and cold as everyone says," he remarked.

"Easy for you to say. You've been napping in my climate-controlled interior for the past 3 hours! I, on the other hand, have practically frozen my tailpipe off!" Michael chuckled and patted KITT's hood. Despite the car's claims, it felt slightly warm to his touch.

Michael put on his ComLink before leaving KITT alone, but it was merely a force of habit and he didn't expect any danger. "Sit tight, I'm gonna check in."

The hotel was packed with official looking businessmen and women who must've been there for the conference. Waiting in line to check in took a hefty 20 minutes, which Michael spent playing chess with (and losing to) KITT over the ComLink.

Finally, Michael made it to the receptionist, a pretty, short brunette with a floral scarf tied around her neck.

"Name?" she requested.

"Michael Knight. I'm here for the crime conference? I'm with the Foundation for Law and Government."

"Knight, Knight, Knight," she mumbled, checking her records. "Ah! Here you are. You are also traveling with a Ms. Barstow and a Mr. Miles, is that correct?"

"Sure is," Michael smiled.

"I'm terribly sorry, sir," the receptionist began. "But it seems we've overbooked for the conference this weekend. Originally, you booked three rooms, but I'm afraid you'll have to manage with two. If that is unsatisfactory, I can comp you a night at a neighboring hotel. Again, I'm so sorry-"

"Don't sweat it, sweetheart," Michael cut in with his suave charm. He flashed a wide smile and agreed to the new arrangement, thinking of all the combinations for their rooms tonight.

 _Let's see. I room with Devon and Bonnie gets a room to herself. That could get ugly. Maybe Devon and Bonnie share and I go alone? That doesn't seem right either. Or_ I _could share with Bonnie and_ Devon _gets a room to himself. Hmm. That could work._

He raised the ComLink to his mouth. "KITT, what time is it?"

"9:23 PM central time," came the immediate reply.

"And what time does Bonnie and Devon's flight land?"

"10:14. They should be here by midnight. I trust you are going to enjoy another nap before they arrive?"

"You betcha, partner," Michael said, heading up the stairs to his room on the 3rd floor. He was about to turn off his ComLink when he heard a strange noise come from it. He could've sworn it sounded like a computerized sneeze, but he dismissed it as static interference and was no sooner in his room than asleep in the bed.

* * *

This was a load of fun to write. Next chapter coming by the weekend, if not tomorrow!


	2. Knight Sweats

Hello again! Here's chapter 2, and more BonniexMichael. Normally, I don't write this fast, but this fic is really fun and I'm having a slow week at school. Thanks for the positive feedback and enjoy this next installment!

* * *

Michael was awoken by the soft tapping of the hotel key in the lock as Bonnie entered tentatively. It was a few minutes before midnight.

"Sorry, Michael," she whispered when she realized he was awake. "Devon is insisting on practicing his acceptance speech a dozen times before going to bed."

"And you need your beauty sleep," Michael joked, his voice raspy with fatigue. Through the soupy darkness of the pitch black room he could make out her faint smile. She put her luggage in the closet and went into the bathroom to change. Michael looked down at his own ensemble, remembering that he hadn't changed since his arrival in Chicago, a situation he quickly remedied.

She eased herself into the crisp, starchy sheets of the remaining bed. She sighed and fell silent. Michael stayed awake for a few more minutes, staring at the rough popcorn ceiling.

* * *

He was again awoken by Bonnie's sweet, quiet voice.

"Michael," she said hushed, under her breath. "You gotta get up. We have the conference today, remember?"

He sat up, yawning and rubbing his eyes. The clock indicated that it was half past seven. "I thought KITT was gonna send me a wake-up call on the ComLink."

"I'm having trouble connecting with him this morning," Bonnie remarked. She folded her arms in front of her in the style of a concerned mother, which Michael found amusing, considering Bonnie's assumed role as KITT's mom.

"Maybe he's got butterflies in his fuel tank," Michael chortled. "He is the main attraction at this thing, after all."

"Speaking of fuel," Bonnie continued, turning to fetch a paper bag she had left on the dresser. "Here's a muffin. Eat up, we got a long day ahead of us." She paused in front of the mirror and adjusted her hair before walking halfway out of the room. "You have about an hour to meet Devon and me in the lobby. I'm gonna go check us in, then we'll all go to the garage and get KITT."

Michael flashed her a thumbs up and leapt out of bed. Within an hour, he had showered, brushed his teeth, and gotten dressed in a nice suit KITT had helped him choose. Michael had to give it to his partner; he did have a nice sense of style.

The lobby was even more busy than the previous night. People were wheeling computers, carrying bulging briefcases, and practicing presentations all over. It seemed like forever before Michael was able to find his coworkers. It was Bonnie's gorgeous tawny hair that gave them away.

"Good morning, Michael," Devon greeted, sipping a cup of coffee. "Are you ready for your big day?"

"It's not really my big day," Michael said, dipping his head with modesty and rubbing his neck. "It's KITT's. I mean, he does all the driving." He chuckled. "Speaking of, have either of you heard from him?" Bonnie and Devon shook their heads.

"He's probably running diagnostics," Bonnie contributed. "You know him, always overprepared."

The three walked in silence to the garage. On the way, Michael overheard other convention-goers talking about their various inventions and accomplishments. Taking into consideration all that these people had done, and that the judges had still chosen KITT for their grand prize winner, Michael felt incredibly proud of his partner and friend. Their relationship was certainly a non-sequitur, but that didn't mean that he loved KITT any less than the rest of his friends.

When KITT came into view, all three of the FLAG employees had to do a double take, thinking he must have been replaced by some lemon of a car. His windshield, which he always kept impeccably wiped, was foggy and covered in streaks. His tires were massively underinflated, his chassis was sunken, and his stunning shiny coat had lost its sheer.

Bonnie shuffled tentatively towards the car, shivering from the cold. She leaned on KITT's hood, inspecting him, before yelping and jumping back. "KITT, your hood! It's burning up!"

She exchanged a perplexed look with Michael and Devon.

And then KITT spoke. His scanner lolled back and forth sluggishly and erratically. "Ugh... Bonnie? Is that you?" His voice was harsh, much raspier than normal, and sounded like it was coming out of a blown-out speaker.

"KITT, what's the matter?" Devon stepped in. Michael could sense the panic rising in his boss.

"Devon, I feel simply dreadful. And I am incapable of feeling. What is wrong with me?"

"Well, KITT, what doesn't feel right?" Bonnie walked around the car, taking note of KITT's terrible appearance.

"For starters, my engine feels frozen and stiff, my fuel tank keeps sloshing around, my entire cabin is all foggy, and my olfactory sensor has completely malfunctioned. I feel like I couldn't turbo boost even if you ran 10,000 amps through my battery!" There was a pause, and KITT suddenly exploded with a violent sneeze, causing him to spray Bonnie with windshield washer fluid.

"Bless you, buddy," Michael said, still wholly confused by this whole situation.

"KITT, if I didn't know better, I'd say you have the flu," Bonnie concluded.

"Impossible, Bonnie," KITT responded with a telltale nasally voice. "Electronics cannot develop human illnesses. And my state-of-the-art antivirus software keeps my CPU, in your human terms, healthy."

"Do you _feel_ healthy?" Came her retort. KITT's reply was a simple 'no' and a cough.

"This is an absolute disaster!" Devon cried, pacing around the garage and wringing his hands. "We have less than 2 hours before we have to roll this pitiful machine onto the stage and accept a major award for FLAG's contributions to mankind, and our contribution can't even see straight!" He gestured towards KITT, who was leaking engine fluid from his front bumper.

"I resent that," KITT hissed as he attempted to demonstrate his ability, but was only able to lurch forward and scrape his bumper on the ground with a lackluster shower of sparks.

"Oh, no you don't," Bonnie said sternly.

"Is there anything you can do?" Michael asked. He hated seeing his friend feeling so under the weather.

"I can replace his coolant to try to reduce his 'fever'," Bonnie sighed. "But it looks like the problem is in both his hardware and software. I think this weather and the drive were just too much for him."

"This is by far the strangest foe we have ever encountered, Michael," KITT whispered. Michael chuckled and patted his friend's hood. Bonnie was right; it was warm. _That's not good_ , he thought.

"A little chicken soup and you'll be all better, partner," Michael assured the car.

"To the contrary, Michael, pouring soup into my machinery will make me feel worse."

Michael smiled. "At least your sense of humor isn't sick."

Bonnie mumbled to herself as she paced furiously around the garage, scratching her chin. She paused, apparently in the middle of some grand revelation, and exclaimed, "I got it! I know just what we can do."

KITT 'sneezed' again. "At this point, I'm willing to try anything. What did you have in mind?" Devon and Michael turned their heads to the mechanic, who had a rather strange look on her face.

"Well…"


	3. High, I'm KITT

Chapter 3! Some feels, followed by dirty humor. :) The plot thickens!  
You might notice that this chapter is similar in plot to the season 2 episode of Parks and Recreation, "Flu Season," which happens to be my all-time favorite. I fully acknowledge the similarities between that work and this one, but other than the very broad experience of taking extremely strong medicine (of which I have no experience, save for my wisdom teeth surgery next month! and having taken care of several friends on painkillers after theirs), this work of fiction is entirely my own. Only use medicine with the express consent of a medical professional. Alright, disclaimer time is over, let's hit it!

* * *

"You can't be serious!" Devon gawked, his jaw practically scraping the bottom of the garage. "That's your plan? To pour human medicine into KITT's fuel tank? Bonnie, you're by far the smartest person at FLAG-"

"Hey!" KITT mumbled. Devon continued.

"But this is absolute madness! He is a multimillion dollar investment, the smartest AI FLAG, let alone the entire world, has ever seen! And you're going to load him up on Tylenol and roll his drugged chassis onto the stage? Not to mention the fact that he is a _machine, not a human!_ " Devon was almost screaming by the end of his speech. Well… okay, he actually was screaming. Michael let this play out on it's own, while Bonnie wrung her hands from the stress of the situation.

"Devon, listen," she pleaded. "On the molecular level, the drug has potential to speed up his depressed microprocessor and flush whatever bug he's got out of his system. I know it's only theoretical, and highly unorthodox. But the fact of the matter is, KITT is sick and it's our responsibility to take care of him."

Devon sighed harshly and paced erratically around with his head in his hands. "Winning this award means everything to me. With the prize money, the notoriety, think of all the good we could do for the people of this country and others. All of you have worked so hard, and you've truly earned this. Now this…" he trailed off, desperation tearing his words to shreds.

"Everybody, calm down," Michael asserted, stepping forward. "Look, we're gonna figure this out, alright? Right now, we just need to do everything we can to get KITT presentable and on that stage. And now we have," he paused to glance at his ComLink, which made his stomach sink. "90 minutes." Devon whimpered.

Michael clapped his hands and rubbed them together. _Showtime._ "Bonnie, go get the pills." She nodded and scurried off. "Devon, go see if you can buy us some time. I'll stay with KITT and see if there's anything I can do to help him." Devon walked furiously towards the convention center, leaving the two crime-fighters alone.

KITT moaned.

"I know, buddy," Michael cooed, rubbing his friend's fevered fender. "Nothin' fun about having the flu."

"Michael," the car began pitifully. "What did Devon mean when he said that I am 'a machine, not a human'?" Michael tried not to let KITT see the way that wrenched his heart. He often felt that KITT got the short end of the stick when it came to existence: not human enough to be human, but too human to be a machine. The way he learned, interacted, felt… _If that's not human, I don't know what is._ The truth is, Michael felt closer to KITT than anybody else. At least, since he'd been shot. To hear his own best friend in such an identity crisis was heartbreaking.

"Michael?" KITT prodded, his voice still foggy.

"He meant that… look, pal, you are not a living being. But that doesn't mean you're not alive. You have memories, connections, and emotions. Hell, you're more human than most of the people walking around at this convention. Everything on this planet has some kind of central processing unit. Yours just happens to be made out of silicon. Devon's, Bonnie's, and mine are all made out of… um-"

"Neurons, Michael," KITT chimed in. His friend nodded and smiled, patting his still-warm hood. "I'm not so sure being human is all that great. I mean, look at me. I'd much rather be a computer and deal with the occasional malware program than whatever this monstrosity is."

The two were laughing heartily (KITT's was more of a half-laugh, half-coughing conglomerate) just as Bonnie and Devon reappeared. The former was holding a large bottle of Aspirin. She popped the lid off and asked KITT to open the door to his fuel tanks.

Bonnie bit her lip. "Alright, fellas, it's now or never." KITT flashed his scanner in anticipation, and she emptied the bottle directly into his fuel supply. All four were silent for what felt like hours, waiting for some kind of response.

"Well, KITT?" Bonnie murmured tentatively. "How do you feel?"

"I- I don't know," came the car's response. "I feel rather… strange." His voice module began to waver as if he was submerged deep underwater. "The room is spinning," was his conclusion.

Devon whipped his head around to Bonnie in alarm. "No, like, it really is. Think about it… to you three, you're all just standing there, but we're really flying through space with speed of approximately 67,000 miles per hour." KITT stopped, then burst into a fit of giggles, snickering at what Michael and co could only guess. "Ain't that somethin'!"

"Oh, God," Devon squeaked faintly, before collapsing against the wall of the parking garage. "He said 'ain't'! This is worse than before!"

"Devon, Michael, and Bonnie," KITT said with a philosophical tone. "If you rearrange the letters, you can spell 'behooved man incline.' Mike, it sounds like I'm talking about a-"

"KITT!" Bonnie squealed. Devon flushed. Michael, on the other hand, had to bite his tongue to keep from laughing at the utter ridiculousness of the situation. Boy, was he gonna have fun with this when KITT got out of his 'state.'

"You know, I feel absolutely great. And you guys feel great, it's almost like," KITT drew a massive gasp. "Like we're _connected._ Like we're connected. Huh." The great philosophe allowed himself to wallow in a deep pause, evidently in some deep, euphoric trance of his own intelligence.

Bonnie put the back of her hand to KITT's hood. "Well, I think his fever's almost gone. Look, his windshield and cabin are defogging, his tires are re-inflating. It's working."

"We better pray that the awards committee doesn't ask KITT any questions while we're presenting him," Michael said. "For all we know, he'll write a dirty anagram of their names, too."

"They're bound to!" Devon cried. "He's the epitome of artificial intelligence, you think anybody in that room is going to pass up the opportunity to interact with him?!" KITT continued to snicker and began to toggle his headlights up and down. Bonnie just shook her head.

"There's nothing we can do," she muttered. "His symptoms are practically gone, but now we've got a- well, we've got a not-KITT."

"Looks like we're gonna have to wing it," Michael resolved. He turned to KITT. "That sound good to you, pal?"

KITT opened and closed his doors rapidly and chuckled. "Look! Wings!"

* * *

Yay for the weekend! I'm super busy the whole weekend, so my 3-day-new-chapter-every-day streak may have to come to an end… but we'll see, because this lil' crackfic is getting progressively more fun to write. Thanks for your support, R&R, please!


	4. Ladies and Gents, For Your Enjoyment

Chapitre numéro quatre! This one has more Bonnie. I might split it into two smaller chapters, or make it one large one. Well, if you're reading this, then you know what I decided to do. And happy Oscars night, everybody!

* * *

"Okay, now we've _got_ to do something," Michael insisted. "For crying out loud, he's trying to fly!" A telltale silence fell over the crowd: the FLAG team was officially stumped. All eyes fell on Bonnie, who looked like a deer caught in the headlights. Literally, even, as KITT was still flashing his.

"The only thing I can think of would be to purge his fuel system," Bonnie hissed exasperatedly. Devon looked anxiously towards the car, who abruptly stopped his antics.

"Ew," KITT huffed, shifting into reverse and backing himself up inch by inch. "No thank you."

The three befuddled characters were so engulfed with their "fallen comrade" that they didn't notice the meek, mousy teenage-looking boy behind them. He was dressed in a wool argyle sweater, with an official-looking lanyard and badge around his neck.

"Excuse me," he peeped. "Mr. Miles?"

Devon turned to face the kid, who shrunk under the harsh gaze. Devon could only pray that the kid hadn't been a witness to the entirety of this whole spectacle.

"Mr. Miles," the boy continued. "The presentations in the main showroom are running a little ahead of schedule. Would it be at all possible to move your schedule ahead about 30 minutes? You'd have to start wheeling the car to the convention center about right now, so we can set up his microphone."

"When you say 'his microphone,'" Michael interjected hazardously. "You mean Devon's, right?" The convention worker shook his head.

"No, for the car. Your report suggested that he is artificially intelligent, correct?" Devon nodded faintly as the color drained from his face. "After the presentation of your award, the committee wanted to have a Q and A session with the car. I have the list of pre-approved audience questions, if that'll help." Michael shook his head; there was no way to help this situation.

Bonnie put on a brave face and said, quite politely, "That'll be fine. We'll get KITT down to the convention center as soon as possible." The boy nodded furiously and waddled away, speaking into a walkie-talkie.

"That's it," Devon wept. "FLAG will be shut down for sure! This will surely be our undoing…" Bonnie put her arm around the man, giving him a friendly and reassuring squeeze.

"Not if I can help it," she said steadfastly. "We're all gonna be just fine. Michael, you and Devon can go stall the convention workers. I'll see if I can't find a way to coerce this lemon into cooperating somehow." KITT honked his horn harshly with indignation. Bonnie narrowed her eyes.

While Michael dashed away, dragging Devon alongside him, Bonnie tried to tame her Black Beauty. Easier said than done. The Trans Am did his darndest to make this the hardest experience of both of their lives, like a child getting a shot at the doctor. Bonnie wanted to give her friend the benefit of the doubt, since he probably still didn't feel too well, but this got harder and harder as the attempts to open his locked doors (and roof panels, in one instance) ticked by uneventfully.

"I don't wanna," KITT groaned, as his mechanic tried in vain to jimmy his door open.

"KITT," Bonnie said with strain turning her words to ice. "You have to." This got them nowhere. Then, Bonnie had an idea. She had little, if any, experience working with fussy toddlers, or cars intent on impersonating them, but she was familiar with the old dangling-a-carrot-in-front-of-a-rabbit trick.

"Hey, KITT," she said in a low voice to perk the AI's attention. "If you're a good boy at your presentation today, I'll get you something." He hummed and flashed his scanner, intrigued. "How about a brand new spoiler?" KITT raised his headlights slowly. _Gotcha,_ Bonnie thought. Her cunning had done it again, and KITT popped his door open. Bonnie slid inside, and barely had time to close it before KITT switched into pursuit mode and rocketed towards the exit of the garage.

"KITT," Bonnie warned. "Unless you want your interior to be decorated with the insides of my stomach, I suggest you slow down!" He did, but did so stubbornly and marginally. He also insisted on steering himself into the freight entrance at the back of the convention center, where Michael and Devon were waiting.

Devon looked happier than he had in several days. "You did it!" He exclaimed, even hopping a little, which KITT relentlessly mocked. But he sneezed again, and Bonnie bit her lip. _The medicine is probably wearing off,_ she pondered.

"Let's get this show on the road," the feature attraction shouted. "Ha! Pun intended." He revved his engines, and they spluttered noticeably. Michael just swept it under the rug and walked behind his buddy to push him further into the showroom. Thankfully, this pitiful scene was obstructed by large panels, hiding the backstage from the sea of convention-goers. Several event coordinators garbed with wires and headsets and other various electronics scurried over.

"You're on in 5," one whispered. "Is the car ready?" The workers walked tentatively around KITT, in awe of his gorgeous body and interior.

"As ready as I'll ever be!" KITT resolved.

* * *

"Ladies and gentlemen, I am proud to present to you the Grand Prize winner of this year's convention!" The presenter's voice boomed over the loudspeaker, causing a sinking feeling Devon's gut. "Please give a warm welcome to Devon Miles, Bonnie Barstow, and Michael Knight and their artificially intelligent super car, the Knight Industries Two Thousand!" Thunderous applause erupted from behind the curtains, but it was muted by the soft pounding of blood in Devon's ears.

KITT inched forward, his tires squeaking on the polished tile of the showroom floor. The velvet curtains peeled slowly away from his sleek and narrow front bumper. He was really milking this: making his engine growl desirably, leaving the audience in suspense as he slowly revealed himself. And when his scanner came into view, they went crazy. Cameras clicked, jaws dropped, people screamed. KITT drank it all in, turning side to side to show himself off. After giving him his 30 seconds of fame, the three humans walked out after him to a second round of applause. Devon approached the microphone, and KITT whispered to him, "Go get 'em, Big D."

"Big D" held up his hands to the crowd, signaling them to quiet down. He began, "Thank you for that wondrous welcome." His voice was confident and commanding as it was projected through the hall. Bonnie blushed under the lights and approval of the stage. There were thousands of people staring wide-eyed at Devon, his associates, and his stunning car. _Let's just hope he keeps his voice module quiet,_ Bonnie pleaded.

"On behalf of the Foundation for Law and Government, I wish to extend a most gracious thanks to everyone in this room. Each one of you, by dedicating your time and effort to contribution in this conference, has helped make the world a better place for every one of her citizens!"

Michael found himself smiling as he reflected on all of his adventures with KITT: fighting Goliath, turbo-boosting out from under thousands of tons of gravel, driving on water. All of the best moments of his life had gone by with KITT. Nothing that Michael Long had ever did mattered anymore; he was glad to be Michael Knight, the lone crusader of the helpless and the powerless, chasing criminals who operate above the law… _I gotta stop, I am not crying in front of a room full of strangers. Nor KITT._

When Michael came to, he realized that Devon's speech was over and that he was holding a giant crystal trophy that shone almost as brilliant as KITT's pyroclastic lamination. Devon was positively beaming, giving both Bonnie and KITT a kiss. _That means that the big guy's time to shine is almost here. I just hope his… loopiness is almost resolved._

It wasn't.

"At this time, we are going to invite our pre-selected audience members up to the microphones located in the aisles, and begin the question and answer segment of the presentation. Answering your questions will be none other than the Knight Industries himself, who has requested that he be called 'KITT.'" Michael could hear Devon gulp and saw a slight sheen of sweat break out on his forehead.

A timid young girl stepped up to the mic. "My first question is for Mr. KITT," she said with a voice about 3 octaves too high. "You're obviously a very talented individual." Michael saw KITT's scanner flash as if he were blushing. "What would you consider your, um, 'coolest' ability?" She stepped back, her china-doll face as red as a tomato.

KITT chuckled good-naturedly. "I have an answer to that one." Devon was staring daggers at the car. KITT replied suavely, "Wilton Knight was smart enough to give me a super-sensitive olfactory sensor. Sharp as a dog's nose." The audience laughed along with the car. "Naturally, as advanced as my machinery is, I can smell human pheromones." Devon swiveled his head slowly and threateningly towards the car. _Hold your tongue,_ he seethed. "And I'll tell you, when Bonnie over there is tuning my instruments and Michael walks in the room, my sensors light up like the Fourth of July!"

Bonnie screeched, flushed, and promptly covered her face with her hands. The audience drew a collective gasp and went silent while KITT snickered evilly. But his snickers turned violent sneeze that sprayed windshield wiper fluid 15 feet into the audience.

"Okay, that's about enough for today!" Devon strode to KITT's window and yanked his steering wheel until the car wheeled backstage. The audience didn't even complain, still reeling from the car's display. Once they were safely out of view, Devon melted down.

"WHAT THE BLOODY HELL WAS THAT, KITT?"

"I'm sorry, what the bloody hell was what?" KITT replied. His voice was starting to sound congested and raspy again, his windshield fogging, and his taillights dimming. Devon felt slightly guilty for laying into him so roughly. "Goodness, I feel awful again!" Bonnie glanced bitterly at the car; she clearly was not as forgiving. Michael ran his hand along his partner's hood and immediately withdrew it.

"Bonnie?" he asked tentatively. Right now, she was more volatile than a rattlesnake.

"Yes?" she replied with the venom of a viper.

"His fever's back." She immediately shook off her anger and went to examine her ailing "kid." _Michael's right. KITT's burning up again. The medicine must've worn off._

"I think it'd be best if we left," Devon said. "ASAP."

"I agwee," KITT said. He sounded infinitely more congested. "I'mb really sick."

* * *

Whew! Long one. I have an idea for tomorrow's* chapter. Keep your eyes peeled for the next installment of KITT's common cold catastrophe!

*"Tomorrow: noun. Probably the day following the one in which we currently are, with the possibility of it being the day after that."


	5. Airing of Grievances

Greetings! Thanks again for all of your continual support. You brighten my day when I open my email and see all the reviews! It seriously means a lot. Anyway, here's chapter 5- enjoy! Might be a short one, but more stuff coming soon!

* * *

"Devon," Michael cautioned. "Cut the poor T-top some slack. Poor guy doesn't even know which way is up." Michael shot a sympathetic glance to his partner, who was rapidly declining back into his previous sickly state. Devon sighed and nodded solemnly.

"What I need," he said resolutely, yet singed with defeat, "is a nice cup of Irish coffee." He marched away, and Michael and Bonnie decided to let him alone. The two were left, suspended in the Jell-o like awkwardness of drugged KITT's revelations. Michael could feel the heat radiating off of her blushing cheeks. Suave as ever, he decided that the best course of action was to entirely ignore it. Secretly, however, he did want to know if the feeling was mutual. Bonnie, being the fierce girl that she is, addressed the situation head-on.

"Look, about what KITT said-" she began, but Michael cut her off by holding up his hand.

"How about we just don't talk about it, huh?"

Bonnie looked rather crestfallen and she shrunk back a little. "Oh," she said initially. "Um, okay, well, then I'm just gonna..." she stumbled for words quite ungracefully, trying in vain to find some way to salvage this situation. "I'm gonna go." And she dashed off, almost knocking over several backstage crew members. _That did not go as planned,_ he reflected.

"If you're thinking that that exchange did not go well," KITT piped up. "Then I agree with you." He coughed and continued in his nasally congested voice. "I amb just a machine, though." Michael shuffled over to the car and leaned on the hood: warm.

"Are you picking up on any pheromones now?" Michael asked half-heartedly. KITT hummed.

"I'mb not sure my olfactory sensor could pick up a dairy farm from fifteen feet away," he joked, but with a dejected tone to his voice. Michael smiled with pity at his friend and patted his hood. _This can't be easy for him. Feeling under the weather on your big day, when your whole life has been dedicated to perfection? And I thought being a human was rough._ That last thought turned out more bitter than intended, considering the failed attempt to calm the whole Bonnie situation. He'd been with more girls than even KITT's super-sophisticated math algorithms could count, but something about Bonnie made him circle back to her each and every time.

Michael helped KITT wheel himself back into the garage. The bitter wind had temporarily resolved itself, which was good news for the exhausted supercar. The two found a nice, dry, and warm corner spot at the back of the lot where KITT snuggled up. Michael stayed with him, sitting on the cold concrete and resting his back against KITT's front tire. He listened to the rattling of his instruments, the soft hum of his electronics, feeling the animalistic growl of his engines. All of this would be so much more intimidating if he weren't so damn sick.

"Michael," KITT broke the silence. "My power packs are draining much faster than usual. Would you mind leaving me to charge them for a few hours?" Michael eased himself up, leaning on the flaccid tire. He nodded and patted his friend right on his 'nose' and left him to his nap. _Hopefully he'll feel better when he wakes up,_ Michael thought as he shuffled back to the convention center. He threw KITT one last glance before he left his view, but the car's scanner was off: asleep.

Michael found Devon at the hotel bar and ordered himself a beer. His boss just sat in silence, sipping at what appeared to be his second drink. After a few minutes, he drew a heavy sigh, folded his hands, and turned towards Michael.

"Tell me, Michael," he said with the voice of a proudly defeated man. "Was this a complete failure?" And Michael did not know how to respond, but he sure as hell gave it his best shot.

"No," he responded earnestly. "Not at all. Devon, you've given your whole life to helping make the world a better place. And everyone at this conference knows it. Can't you still hear the roar of the crowd in your ears? That was all for you. It wasn't for me, Bonnie, or even KITT. Because if it weren't for you, and Wilton Knight, none of us would be here. Think of all the bad guys behind bars thanks to you! Was this a failure? Just because KITT said one stupid thing, a complete fluke considering his track record? Sure, it was unfortunate, but you'd be hard pressed to find a definition of 'failure' that matches our current situation."

Devon looked like he was on the verge of tears, and his rising emotions pulled a smile up with them. Just then, however, a young boy came scurrying up to Devon and pulled on the hem of his suit jacket.

"Hey, are you Mr. Miles?" He said with wide eyes. "The guy who invented KITT?" Devon nodded slowly. _Oh, I know where this is going. This is it, Devon. Prepare yourself to part with your last shred of humility._

"That was so cool!"

Devon immediately perked up. First his face showed confusion: then, flattery. The boy bounced up and down, talking rapidly about how awesome he found KITT.

"He's so cool, I read in the conference program that he can do jumps and play chess and make telephone calls and watch TV! I wish I had a car that could do that!"

Michael chuckled good-naturedly. "Maybe some day, you will, buddy." His bright green eyes lit up and his smile beamed. With a quick thanks, the boy scampered away. _Do we have a future Michael Knight Jr. here?_ The thought was equally amusing and unsettling; after all, KITT lived forever. Michael had already died once.

He quickly shook this off and turned back to Devon. He was bobbing his head to the beat of the music playing softly in the lobby. "Still think this was a failure?" Michael chided.

"Nope!" Devon said, sounding himself like the little boy. Michael swiveled around on his barstool to examine the rest of the lobby. Bonnie was walking towards them. Michael took a hearty sip of his beer and nudged Devon back to real life.

"I got some good news," she began. Michael noticed that she was looking straight and exclusively at Devon. "The Mobile Unit is up and running again. A couple interns are driving it over here right now. So we'll be ready to leave a little after noon tomorrow." Devon looked taken aback.

"Leave? So soon? Bonnie, Michael and KITT and I are just beginning to enjoy ourselves!"

"Enjoying yourselves? Despite the fact that KITT is running a 240 degree Fahrenheit fever and his oil is thicker than corn syrup?" She sounded stern, even going so far as to put her hands instinctively on her hips. Michael and Devon exchanged glances.

In his tipsy state, all Devon could muster in reply was, "That's a pretty high fever."

She sighed, exasperated, and wheeled around and stormed away. Over her shoulder, she barked, "12:30 tomorrow. Or I'm putting you two on bed rest as well."


	6. Curiosity Cured the KITT

Hello again! Sorry this chapter is a little late; it was crunch time for a paper I was writing. But here is installment number 6 in KITT Catches a Cold!

* * *

Michael woke up a little after 8 AM, his head pulsating slightly from a minor hangover. Regardless, his liver was every bit as strong as KITT's armor. He reached over to his nightstand and put on him ComLink. He whispered KITT's name, checking to see if the car was still 'charging' or not. Judging by the lack of a reply, and the soft snoring coming from the other end, he was.

Shuffling around the hotel room, his hair a matted mess, Michael repacked his suitcase. Unsurprisingly, it was jammed full of shirts that were unbuttoned three quarters of the way down. After 10 minutes, he found himself sitting absent-mindedly on the edge of the bed, sipping a paper cup of stale black coffee. Outside his window, rush hour was wreaking havoc on Chicago's streets. Shrill honks and beeps slashed through the brittle winter air. _I sure hope this clears up before we leave,_ Michael thought. _Which is in about 3 hours. I better go check on the 'patient.'_

So, Michael wheeled his suitcase out of his hotel room, turning off the lights as he left. On his way to the elevator, he passed Bonnie's room. He could hear the blow dryer going, with the TV playing the news in the background. Bonnie did love to watch the news. With his fist raised to the door, Michael hesitated for a minute before giving up. _She wouldn't want to see me. She wouldn't hear me knocking either. And I don't want to scare her._ Michael kept rattling off reasons during the entire elevator ride to the lobby, justifying his decision to let alone the whole 'Bonnie situation.'

After stopping to check out at the front desk, Michael went out to greet his partner. He was parked lopsidedly in his corner spot, with his scanner waving lazily. Nevertheless, he greeted Michael with his usual 110% attitude (with 110% more congestion).

"Hey, buddy, how're ya feelin'?" Michael asked. He patted KITT's hood, relieved to feel that his temperature had gone down a little.

"I'mb feeling a little better, Michael," KITT replied. His voice modulator still sounded blown-out: muted and raspy. "And how are you this fine Chicagoan morning?"

"I'm doing just fine. You know, you sound better."

"You're correct about that, Michael," KITT said in the matter-of-fact tone that he loved so dearly. "Diagnostics indicated my processing speed is up about 12%."

"Great!" Michael clapped. "That mean's the worst is over."

"Well, I for one think this has gone on long enough," KITT huffed. "I don't even know how I caught a human affliction, much less why it is so gosh darn stubborn. One would think that the viruses would have died out days ago, considering my hydrogen fuel tanks are hardly a habitable environment for microorganisms."

"I think you're more human that you give yourself credit for, pal," Michael chided with a playful glimmer in his eyes. The car responded by flashing his scanner dismissively.

"If this is what it means to be human," he mumbled, "then _forget it!_ " He paused for a moment, then sneezed, and then sneezed again.

"You know," Michael wondered out loud. "I think I have something that might help you."

* * *

"A car wash?" KITT gawked, disgusted. Michael had to press firmly on the accelerator to get the stubborn car to inch forward into the tracks. "Michael, car washes to me are what public bathhouses are to you."

"KITT, those don't exist anymore."

"Exactly!" he exclaimed. "It's an antiquated process. Why my fellow automobiles allow themselves to be washed by strangers in a public place is beyond me. And why you're dragging me _here_ ," Michael noted the disdain in the car's voice. "When we have a perfectly nice garage, not to mention dozens of FLAG employees, who could do the same job drastically better is equally boggling."

"Take it easy, I think it'll help your cold."

"And just _why_ would you think that?" KITT hummed suspiciously, allowing Michael to inch him further and further into the car wash. Ahead of them, the first spray of water and soap turned on. The car balked like a flu-ridden, yet majestic stallion. Michael gave the dashboard a stern look, and the brake's reluctantly disengaged. When the water first touched his bumper, KITT honked with discomfort and protest. But then Michael found that the car was slowing himself, almost stopping in the path of the sprayers.

"KITT?" he prodded. "What do you think?"

"Oh," was his only reply. "Oh my, that is delightful." Michael chuckled. He figured the hot soapy water would scrub away the icky feelings that a cold leaves you with and to warm up KITT's chilly electronics and flush out his systems. There was a method to his madness.

When Michael was a kid, back when he was Michael Long, he loved car washes. The best part was always the rainbow soap stuff: the pastel foam that sprayed in lovely arcs all over the windows. Obviously, he couldn't smell it, but he imagined that it smelled like cotton candy.

KITT seemed to like it too. When the lather reached his wheels, he revved his engine until it purred sultrily. KITT popped up his headlights so they could get a proper scrubbing. He flashed them with delight, and Michael found himself grinning from ear to ear. His car, usually so serious and superior, was acting like a kid in a candy store!

Next came the spinny-blue-octopus-arm machine. _Hell if I know what those are called._ Anyway, KITT was skeptical at first. Anything that comes flying towards him does not usually meet a happy ending. But he found them equally enjoyable. First, they scrubbed away at KITT's fender. This sent him into another sneezing fit which evolved into a laughing fit shared by the two partners. But Michael imagined the rhythmic scrubs of the machine to be rather massage like for the car, and he fell silent.

They moved on to the next step, which was a simple rinse. Michael could see the steam rising off of KITT's hood as the steaming water met the freezing air. While the water drummed loudly on KITT's roof, the two chatted for a few minutes.

"You know," KITT began, already sounded greatly improved. "I think this trip was a success." He paused, reading Michael's facial expressions, before adding, "If I do say so myself."

Michael could only laugh harshly. "You, my friend, don't even know the half of it! You were _so_ out of it during your presentation!"

"What does that mean- 'out of it'?"

"Let's just say this," Michael cautioned. "You said 'ain't.'"

KITT fell into a stunned and ashamed silence. The car had arrived at the last step of the wash: the dryers. Going back to Michael's younger car wash ride-along days, these were the worst part of the experience: loud, intimidating, powerful. Even KITT was buffeted by their blasts.

"MICHAEL?" KITT shouted above the roar of the dryers, coughing a little.

"YEAH, KITT?" Michael yelled back.

"IT FEELS LIKE WE'RE SPEEDING ALONG IN PURSUIT MODE! BUT WE'RE NOT MOVING!" And he was right; small droplets of water were streaking across KITT's windshield and flying off.

Michael was about to shout back another reply, but the dryers stopped. Michael rolled down KITT's window to inspect his body: impeccable. The black seemed so dark that it drew in the light from around it, making the car that much more entrancing and incredible.

"Michael," KITT tittered with excitement. "My olfactory sensors- I can smell again!" Michael punched the air with victory. Nothing like a hot shower to cure your cold: even if you're a car!

* * *

Thanks for reading! We seem to be reaching the end of KITT's cold, which probably means the end of this story… But who knows! I know for sure there is at least one or two more chapters, so fear thee not! Funny, when I started writing this, I expected it to be a one-shot… Oh, where did the time go?!

P.S. I really enjoyed writing about the car wash. All of the stuff about Michael's childhood was taken from my own experiences. :)


	7. What Goes Around

Howdy, everyone! Another couple day hiatus… but this time, I appease you with some new cover art! And yes. That is the extent to which I am able to Photoshop. -_- This chapter is going to be a little on the longer side, since this is the last. *gasp* I know! Still, I intended this to be a one-shot. And here we are, at chapter 7. Regardless, thanks for making this hands down the most fun Fanfic I've written! ~YeahScience

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Their celebration was short-lived. KITT announced that Devon was calling, and the man's flustered face appeared on the computer screen.

"Michael! KITT!" He exclaimed. "Where are you?!"

The car responded immediately. "Devon, I'm so glad you called." His voice sounded greatly improved. "Michael… he's a genius! He took me to a car wash, and now my microprocessors are functioning at almost optimal levels! I'm cured!"

Devon dismissed KITT with a wave of his hand. "KITT, I'm glad to hear that, but we need to get on the road. Drive Michael back to the convention center immediately so we can head out." KITT hummed and his system beeped as it shifted into auto cruise. Michael leaned back in his seat and let his partner drive. The dreary Chicagoan landscape seemed much more enjoyable from the heated interior of the car. Michael smiled to himself when he saw a little girl gaping at KITT as he whizzed by. He had to admit, Michael did feel like that often. I mean, how often does a guy get to drive a car as _cool_ as KITT?!

"You know, Michael," KITT began. "This trip was a very rewarding one." Michael cocked his head. KITT was often blunt, but just as often vague. Any opportunity he got to pick the AI's brain was one that he took enthusiastically.

"How do you figure that, buddy?" There was a pause as the supercar formulated his response. Michael waited patiently for the onslaught of deep, philosophical ramblings. And he was not disappointed.

"For starters, publicity for FLAG is always beneficial." Michael stifled a snort. _Your display got a lot of publicity,_ that's _for sure._ "But I think having some time away from the world of crime has done us a lot of good. It's refreshing to spend time with people who use their talents for good, not evil: a similar mindset to ours, I believe. Above all, I got the opportunity to explore my humanity. I was not aware that I had such a program. But I guess I developed it from spending so much time for you. Michael, I think you are the most underrated member of FLAG." Michael was touched, yet wary that there was something backhanded about that complement. Nonetheless, he had no doubts about the car's respect, love even, for his human partner. And the feeling was mutual.

"Do you agree?" KITT probed. Michael let the question hang in the air for a few seconds before nodding.

"I agree. 100%," he replied just as KITT pulled into the parking lot of the hotel, where the FLAG mobile unit was waiting for them. Devon was standing on the ramp into the garage, gesturing for KITT to pull in; he did. The unit was dry and warm: perfect for KITT.

Once the two were parked and KITT had shut off his ignition, that of the big rig roared into life and the garage lurched forward. Devon steadied himself on KITT's hood, letting his hand hover for a few moments so as to gauge the AI's temperature.

"You certainly feel a lot cooler than a few days ago," Devon concluded. "How do you feel?"

KITT hummed with delight, and his scanner flashed rapidly back and forth, quite vividly. "All systems operational, Devon. My power packs are running at 99% capacity, and my processor speed has increased exponentially since two days ago. But, in the human terms to which you are accustomed, I'd say I'm feeling 'ship-shape.'" Michael ran his hand along the T-Top's velvety smooth roof, which had regained its striking sheen.

"You know, you were pretty out of it," Michael chortled. "You tried to take flight, my friend." KITT cocked out one of his doors: the automobile equivalent of a raised eyebrow.

Devon agreed with Michael. "Oh yes, you were quite misbehaved." He tried not to let his repressed anger boil over onto the poor car, who really didn't deserve it. "You would be ashamed." The statement hung in the air for a few moments, and Devon, feeling guilty for berating the unknowing automobile, modified his words. "Of course, you didn't know what you were saying. So no harm."

"We're just glad you're back to your old self," Michael chimed in. Devon nodded. Just then, Bonnie entered the garage. She strode over to KITT and began to examine him with various science-y looking devices.

"I can even prove that I'm back on my feet- well, tires." KITT said with a tone bordering on braggadocious. "For example, I picked up on a surge of pheromones from Michael as soon as Bonnie entered the room. I'd like to see a flu-ridden microprocessor do _that!_ " The three humans were too busy face-palming to congratulate the supercar on his feat.

Bonnie resumed her work on KITT, taking and recording various measurements, nodding contentedly all the while. He must've been telling the truth in saying that he was feeling better, going by Bonnie's reaction to the data. Devon broke the silence. "Unfortunately, this will likely be the only time we get to go on a trip like this. After our spectacle, being invited to any convention ever again is unlikely."

"Aww, don't say that!" Michael cooed jokingly. "KITT can always perform at Dangerfield's!" He and Bonnie chuckled, while Devon and the car sat in a stoic silence. Humor did not often compute with either one of them.

"You know," Bonnie piped up. "We never did determine _how_ KITT even got sick. Not to be Captain Obvious or anything, but he's a _car._ "

"Really, Bonnie," KITT droned. "Someone as advanced in mechanics as yourself should've deduced that a long time ago." Michael nodded in approval at his partner's deadpan. Bonnie shot a side glance at the boys and continued.

" _Anyway_ ," she growled. "A virus like influenza needs a living host in order to survive and replicate. Even a trillion biological viruses would do absolutely nothing to KITT. And his diagnostics indicate no malware activity, which rules out the obvious computer viruses. So what is it?"

KITT cleared his throat. "If I may, Bonnie, I'll quote renowned detective Sherlock Holmes. 'Once you eliminate the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth.'"

"That's all fine and good, KITT," Devon replied. "But you realize that Sherlock Holmes was a man of fiction, yes?"

"His logic, however, is anything _but_ fictional. Whatever made me sick was not a computer bug, leaving just actual human viruses as the sole suspects. Ergo, I must be at least part human, in order to have been affected by one." All four of them exchanged glances in silence. After a few beats, Devon stepped back and rummaged around the garage's numerous cabinets and drawers. He returned a minute and a half later, proudly wielding a bottle of fine champagne and 3 flutes.

"I was saving this for a celebration of the conference," he said nonchalantly. Michael was glad to see he had finally overcome the embarrassment. "What better occasion to mark than this right now?" He poured 3 tall glasses and distributed them amongst the FLAG employees. KITT would have to do without.

"To KITT," Devon bellowed, raising his glass on high for the supercar. "The newest member of the human race!"

"TO KITT!" They yelled with joy, clinking glasses and sipping the sweet, bubbly drink. KITT gave a little honk and revved his engines to join in the fun. Laughter blended in with KITT's hums and purrs as the four sat and talked, reminiscing on the trip and contemplating what their next adventure would be.

But there was one noise that caught all their attention. That cut through the air and stayed for several tense seconds. Each one knew what it meant, reluctantly resigning to its implications.

Michael sneezed.

~THE END~

* * *

Or is it…? I'm contemplating a part II or III, with KARR and Michael as my victims ;) PM or leave a comment to decide their fates!

Thanks for all the readership while I was working on this. It means a lot. You guys rock!

Remember… One man can make a difference. PEACE!

~YeahScience, 3/15/16


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